


Progenuity

by Fuuma_san



Series: The Costs of Production [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Breastfeeding, Changing Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley starts a cult, Explicit content is skippable, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Light Masochism, Masturbation, Noah's Ark, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Other, background noncon threat because the world just be like that, brief appearance of Archangels, empowerment through sexual liberation, this ends on a sad note, though later stories in the series will heal it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24417067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuuma_san/pseuds/Fuuma_san
Summary: Crawly's flame of creation has built back up and he is desperate to get rid of it or risk being outed as an omega. He burns through it with his first awkward heat, then learns more does a much better job with his next. Over time he discovers other creative ways of using up his flame and revels in his growing mastery of his power and the safety and security it gives him.It turns out that while he was, Heaven discovered new, horrible uses for their flames of creation, and now Aziraphale is under orders he hopes he never has to follow. He is terrified Crawly, as an omega, is doing horrible things and is desperate to find him and find out, because all of humanity might be at stake.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Costs of Production [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749496
Comments: 17
Kudos: 97
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel of Voidborne, the first story in the series, and if you haven't read that first you might get confused about how angelic/demonic creation works in this universe. I recommend you read it, but you don't have to for this to be coherent. 
> 
> If you'd like to skip the explicit content, you will find a link like this [skip EC] Click on it to be taken to the end notes for a summary of info mixed in the explicit content, where a link to take you back into the story at the end of it also awaits. There is no explicit content in the second chapter.

After only a year or so, Crawly felt his flame return to strength, more building up bit by bit every day. It felt like a tickling warmth, flickering inside him. Once it got to full strength, a soft but constant warmth to him, other angels and demons would be able to sense it. That was how the other demons had been caught, their flames felt like a gentle radiant warmth coming off them, but more damningly, the fertile smell of creation would arouse anyone that got a whiff, and then they'd all know. He was cursed. This was a curse. 

That wasn’t true. When Crawly had been an angel he’d loved it. He loved making the stars, and nebula, and comets. _He_ was broken, corrupted —damned— and it ruined him, She had ruined him, even his ability to create. He needed to report back to Hell soon and get his new missions, but he was terrified to show his face like this. They’d find out. Maybe it was too early for anyone else to tell, but what if it wasn’t? Beelzebub was an alpha, for crying out loud, they’d definitely smell it on him if there was even a whiff of divinity coming off him. 

He didn’t have much time and even fewer options. Crawly went back to the angel’s hut, because it was the only safe place he could think of. Miraculously, it was still there, the inside dark and empty and nearly exactly as he had last left it, even the furs piled where he'd tossed them as he shuffled through them. There was a layer of dust settled everywhere, and the tub was full of algae, but a quick miracle and the place was spic and span. The miracle that made it unobtrusive was still in place, and confirming that here was the best place to hide out.

He threw himself onto the floor in the middle of the room, on the biggest pile of furs and stared up at the ceiling. 

He talked out loud to himself, “Option 1: Find the angel, who you have no idea where he is or how long that will take, beg him to secretly put something into you to carry and create, and if he agrees, big if there, _if_ he does then you still have to do the previous song and dance again before you start dying and without a beta to help you deliver. If he’ll agree to that again and doesn’t back out and leave you to die.”

Crawly made a distasteful face at that.

“Option 2: try to go into heat like Aziraphale badly explained to you. On the bright side, that’s stealing heavenly secrets, rather demonic of me, in order to lie and hide who I am for selfish reasons, score more points for the damned demon. Bad side, no idea if he made it all up and it sounds extremely dangerous. Might discorporate me, and then I’m on a one way ticket to Hell stinking of divinity.” 

He rolled around the pile of furs.

“Any other ideas?" A long silence answered him. "Nothing? Sounds like option 2 it is.”  [skip EC] 

So he felt for his flame, tried to draw it into his corporation and embrace it, like he’d been told to. It went surprisingly well, flowing into his existing pattern and settling into him with a gentle pressing sensation. He thought that was probably the embracing part done right, and was pleased with himself. That didn’t seem like much trouble at all.

Then the burning started. First a tingling, a warm heat in his skin, but that grew and grew. It was all so hot, like standing too close to a fire. He started to pant, and sweat poured off him, yet he was shivering. His robes were so uncomfortable, he shakily pulled them off, flopping back down naked. Then a strange new heat pooled in him, deep in his belly. He needed… He needed something. All of his demonic senses shut down completely and the rest dimmed till bodily sensations took up most of his awareness. 

He started hugging his torso, rubbing his arms up and down his sides as he shivered, rolling from side to side, rubbing his legs together. He didn’t know why he was doing it but it helped the unknown urges a little. 

He lay there, writhing and burning and sweating for days in a confused fog as the strange hot tension built and built in him till he was moaning, burning pain rippling through him and something else he’d never felt before. His hips hurt between his legs and his corporation seemed lacking, but he didn’t know why. He had trouble forming any coherent thoughts at all and it made him feel like an animal, a mindless beast. At one point he rolled onto his belly and started undulating his body like a snake but up and down and that had helped, so he kept doing it, losing himself in all the sensations, when suddenly he felt the his essence squeeze down on itself, wringing a drop of demonic miracle out of him to change his body. The pain shifted and suddenly part of him that was rocking onto the furs felt fantastic, pleasurable pulses rocketing out with every thrust. He keened, open mouthed and loud and thrust faster, humping down into the ground as hard as he could. Finally, finally the heat felt like it had an outlet, and it concentrated low in his belly and hips, glowing golden inside him as he felt something building, tingling, tensing up in his body, up his back and down his thighs.

Suddenly whatever it was crested with a pleasurable burst behind his eyes and deep in his chest, stealing his breath for a beat and his rhythm changed, becoming jerky and erratic as he cried out over and over with each pulsing sensation. He stilled his movements, wrung out and panting, but the heat pressing into his skin had only abated slightly. Crawly rolled over, finding a sticky smear where he’d been and a cock jutting off his hips, so hard it was purple, still oozing a string of slickness out the tip. 

Crawly grabbed the opportunity to alleviate his suffering quite literally, howling a moan out as his fingers wrapped around his shaft. This felt even better, surrounding his new prick with tight warmth. He started rubbing and his feet pointed, toes curling. 

He was beyond incoherent, overwhelmed with sensations, a vague sense of yes and more and heat the only thought-like thing inside him as he relentlessly pulled himself, a bit of drool falling unnoticed from his slack, moaning mouth. This time when the sensations crescendoed he could see what was happening, watching as his balls drew up, pitiful screams and sobs were wrenched from his body while simultaneously a thick white slick pulsed out of his cock, striping up his stomach and chest. 

He was still so hard it hurt, pressure throbbing inside and the burning _need_ was still there, though lessening. He stroked himself through repeated orgasms, speeding up and slowing down as the pain and overstimulation forced him to adjust, coming over and over all over himself until his dick was red and raw, the chafing starting to tear the delicate skin. He tried to stop, to hold back to prevent him from worsening the injury, but he couldn’t, the pressing heat driving him through the pain to one weeping, shuddering orgasm after another. 

When he finally felt a moment of reprieve he curled up on his side, covered in come and shivering, the burning heat swirling under his skin still. He snapped, trying to heal it, but nothing happened. He snapped over and over again, sobbing and curling up, begging silently for it to be over and for the burning and pain to stop, but nothing happened. He dragged himself out of his slick, wet spot, nuzzling one of the drier, softer furs, unconsciously seeking some form of physical comfort. He slowly took himself in hand once more, trying to be gentle and avoid the spots that were rubbed raw, and watched the sun go down, leaving him in the darkness of the room. Finally, so blessedly final, he came one last time and felt the burning fizzle out, leaving him warm and exhausted and without any more pressing urges for anything other than rest. 

So Crawly slept. 

When he woke up he hurt everywhere, every joint of him aching and his genitals stinging particularly, plus he was cold and sticky and disgusting. He snapped, and the fire roared to life, the water heating in the tub. He crawled over, too exhausted to rise up, and dragged himself into the tub, moaning again as he sank into the water. It felt fantastic, and he laid there till the water went cold, then miracled it to stay hot and perfect forever, which lulled him back to sleep. 

This time when he woke up the pain was merely sharp and unpleasant, here and there. He could think clearly again, and so he took stock of his situation. The furs in the room were still in disgusting shambles and thinking back, he must have been here for about 11 days. 

He wished the angel had given him a bit of warning about what a heat entailed. That had been incredibly unpleasant, and wouldn’t have been as bad if he’d been even the slightest bit prepared, but it had accomplished his purpose. His flame was gone, for now. Another miracle and he and everything else in the one-room home was scrubbed clean of all the spunk, sweat and blood, and all the smells arising from them. His body was fully healed and restored to a smooth-down-there state. 

Crawly tried to miracle some fresh clothes, but nothing happened. He rooted around, trying to find the ones he’d worn here, eventually managing to dig them out and miracling them back into wearability. He dressed himself and moved to leave, pausing in the doorway to give one last look about. 

“Right. Let’s keep the last week and half just between us, room. That was incredibly embarrassing.” 

Wouldn’t do to keep Beelzebub waiting much longer. With a sigh he left, walking till he was far away. Wouldn’t do to lead demons back to his only safe house either. He shifted back to a snake and sunk down into the ground, starting his journey to Hell. 

The entire time he was there he had the fear screaming in the back of his mind, what if they smell you? What if they can tell? But nothing unusual happened— he reported in, got new work to do, and headed back up, unmolested. 

It had worked. It worked! It would work in the future! He could take control of his flame on his own. He didn’t need to make anything he didn’t want to make. He could take himself in hand and burn off any power he didn’t want to use, whenever he wanted to. He didn’t need an alpha to be safe, didn’t have to beg Aziraphale to help him ever again, didn’t have to submit to Hell’s using him for their purposes. And as long as he stayed on top of it, he never would.

He returned to the human city exultant, and sat on a low wall by the bazaar, flicking gravel at the rich people shopping just to annoy them, for the fun of it. A week or so of losing his mind and miracles for each year of peace wasn't a bad trade off for freedom, autonomy and safety. No mistake, going through a heat was unpleasant, but the alternatives were so much more horrible that turning into a stupid, disgusting beast on his terms was a lovely solution comparatively. 

The next year passed uneventfully, though he made sure to learn more about how human genitals worked. Several prostitutes were more than happy to be paid to spend their evening telling him useful tidbits rather than their usual employ, and most valuable they knew about genital injuries and how to treat and prevent them. Humans were bright, they’d worked out solutions to problems he didn’t even know you could have. He wanted to be prepared, next time, and he felt that he was, when it came time.

Which was after slightly more than a year. He was in the middle of a job, tempting a shepherd to abandon their clan’s flock, laying on a hillside by their pasture in the middle of the night when he felt a flickering, candlelight flutter inside him. It kept him warm, at least, over the next few weeks it took to finish the job. He went back into town, intending to skip out to his safe house before reporting in, but a hand grabbed his shoulder.

He whipped around, and there was Hastur, smiling down at him. He froze, cold to his core with fear. This was it. Hastur was an alpha, a particularly cruel one who enjoyed tormenting lower demons with the added power the shreds of his divinity gave him. Thanks to that, he had been titled a Duke of Hell very quickly. Crawly trembled. There was no escaping him, he’d been taken unaware. The duke already had a hand on him. Surely he had to feel it, flickering inside.

“Did you finish the job?” said Hastur.

Crawly’s eyes started to water but he blinked it back. Hastur’s grip tightened with a snarl.

“Don’t just stand there, answer me. The shepherd, is he ours?” He leaned in, menacing.

Crawly nodded, his throat working but not managing to produce anything. 

“Good.” And with that Hastur pulled back. “Beelzebub wants you to do the same in the next town over. They like this plan of yours to disrupt order from the ground up. I’m here to make sure it works. It will work, won’t it, Crawly?” 

Crawly nodded. “Yeah.”

Hastur dropped his hand. “See that it does. I’ll be checking up again, in person.” He walked past, rudely pushing against Crawly as he did. Crawly, feeling rather weak in the knees, stumbled as the Duke bumped him, losing his balance and falling to the ground. Hastur scoffed but kept going. Crawly watched till he was out of sight. 

Hastur hadn’t been able to tell. Relief flooded him. If Crawly hadn’t already been on the ground, the relief would have bowled him over. A laugh bubbled up, quickly followed by a string of them. It was good to know things hadn’t changed so dramatically as he feared, and alphas couldn’t actually sense a weak flame. His life was still his own.

He couldn’t afford to waste any more time. Hastur was still around and expecting results. He miracled himself to the next town over, quickly finding the largest clan’s herds. This one was shepherded by an even younger youth, and now that he was motivated it only took a few days to tempt him and scatter the clans’ flock. This time he miracled himself out of town and most of the way to safety, running the last bit until he was tucked away in the angel’s house. 

It looked as it always had from the outside, but when he stepped inside it was very different indeed. What had once been a dry dirt floor was now a rich, lush carpet of moss, growing a few inches deep in a riot of emeralds and olives. In the darker corners mushrooms grew scattered among the moss and up the wooden walls in a parade of little umbrellas in peach and creams. The furs were nowhere to be seen, though there were some lumps on the ground where they should have been. 

“What a dark little paradise we have here,” Crawly said with a sneer. 

This time, he was prepared. He braided his hair and tied it back, then made sure his fingernails were all short and safe. He miracled a fire in the hearth and the wooden tub full which instantly heated to a comfortable warmth from his previous miracle. Another snap and a stuffed straw mattress, a jar of grease, a jug of drinking water, a jug of beer, a new set of clean clothing and several spare soft cloths manifested in their places in the room. Crawly stripped, throwing his clothes in the far corner and put an effort in, creating a vulva for himself. Lastly, he created a few phalluses, each a different material. He hadn’t really wanted to try these beforehand but had been assured that for some women, they were very helpful, so he had them on hand, just in case. 

He sat on the bed and took stock of his situation, double checking that he’d thought of everything. He hoped his body didn’t switch genitals like last time, as he’d been reassured that vulvae were better equipped for multiple orgasms and rough treatment, but had enough grease just in case. Briefly he’d entertained the idea of trying this as a snake, but shapeshifting normally was unsettling enough, always leaving him with the lingering worry he’d get stuck as a snake, and the idea of being trapped as a limbless animal, unable to even do miracles was too horrible to contemplate. 

“Right. Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” Crawly reached inward feeling the flickering warmth inside him. It felt good— actual goodness, as well as pleasant. It felt like the love of God he used to share with the other angels. He never noticed it feeling like much of anything before, but this was only his second time since his Fall, and he shouldn’t be surprised. It was the last remnant of the divine in him, his soul craving it and enjoying it even as it was anathema to him. He spent another lingering moment just immersing himself in the feel of his flame, then drew it towards his corporation and felt it settle into him, a warm pressure just as last time.  [skip EC] 

He was ready for it when the heat struck, wrenching sweat from his pores, but he was already naked this time, and the windows were open, letting in a cooling breeze. It helped soothe the burning below his skin. This time he had genitals at the ready, and they immediately started throbbing, hot and wet and demanding. He squeezed his eyes closed as the world narrowed down to just sensations. His insides clenched and stung, coming over him in waves he moaned through. Even though he knew what to expect, all sense and memories he had were inaccessible and he just writhed on his mattress for a while, shivering and burning and riding waves of pain. 

Then he remembered enough to snake a hand and start to feel himself, rubbing at his vulva as slickness leaked out of it. It quickly coated his hand as he rubbed himself, avoiding his oversensitive clit while pressing on his folds, dipping his fingertips inside him, relishing the waves of pleasure it sent through his body along with the pain. He rocked up into his hand, his whole body seeming to want movement, palming his mound as he thrust his hips into the sensation. He slowly tightened inside, the tension building in his thighs and back until he came, a different, more drawn out sensation than before. He didn’t slow much, swirling his finger around and around his clit and very quickly found himself coming again, moaning his way through it.

He huffed. Multiple orgasms _were_ easier this way. Unfortunately each one didn’t seem to be releasing as much of the tension and heat inside him as before, and after the third they were harder and harder to chase. He flipped over to his hands and knees, his pussy up in the open air with his face pressed into the mattress, the slickness coming from him dripping down to the mattress and kept working it until his hand cramped, when he switched to the other, furiously stroking himself without being able to think of anything except how much he wanted relief. 

He didn’t know how long he did that, but eventually he realized he’d moved again in order to grind down on a corner of his mattress as he hugged himself. He was sticky with fluids and realized he’d been crying, snot and tear trails drying on his face. He scooted forward and grabbed the closest phallus, the polished wooden one, and shoved it inside himself. He groaned as it penetrated him, the sensation of intrusion and fullness lighting him up inside, making him moan from deep in his chest. He undulated his hips against the bed, wriggling it inside him and that rocketed him into another powerful orgasm, so hard it pushed the phallus out. He scrambled for it, shoving it back in and then pounding himself with it, the pleasure and pain of it all making his mind blank out again, only instincts moving him. 

The next time he had a coherent thought, he was in the ever-hot bath, it’s warmth sinking into him even as he leisurely stroked himself here. The water had a strange quality to it, like it was too bright, or too water, but he wasn’t coherent enough to understand, only notice. Every phallus he had has been used and dropped, scattered about the room; every corner and bump has secretions evident. Most looked like snail trails, slightly iridescent in the light but also, literal trailing evidence of how disgusting he'd been, rubbing his slimy nether bits on everything he could. 

_Sparkling humiliation, how wonderful,_ he thought. 

He kept working his clit, which stung with each pass of his fingertips, but he was starting to like the pain by this point, letting it wash over him as his last orgasm slowly built. When he came it was like a tsunami, a gradual swelling until he realized he was flooded with pleasure, battering against his thoughts and swirling, dragging out his remaining energy as it retreated. 

He fell asleep almost immediately. Heats were exhausting. 

When he woke this time it was because he felt burning again, but it wasn’t the burning of his heat, which had dissipated. This ached and stung like a full body sunburn on the outside of his skin. Like… like consecrated ground. His eyes flew open and he leapt to his feet, but nothing had changed, no one had found him. No angels. He was just standing in the tub at the angel’s hut, his skin smoking slightly where it was wet, his feet still burning. Where they touched— 

“The water! Shit shit shit shit shit!” he jumped out, cringing in the corner and miracled himself dry. Nothing else happened. He wasn’t burning anymore, and he still couldn’t sense anyone else’s presence. He screwed up his courage back up and crept back over, peering at the tub. 

It had a distinct holy… tinge. But it couldn’t have been Holy Water. He’d have been obliterated, and he’d been fine. 

“Where did that even come from?” 

The rest of the room looked as disheveled as he’d last seen it, though dried and not sparkling anymore. Looking down at himself, his skin was pink from the neck down, a few places red. Nothing a nude nap in the sun wouldn’t do to a human as pale as him. He held out his hand, inching it slowly back towards the bathtub. It didn’t tingle like a holy object would, didn’t feel radiant against his skin. He stopped just above the water. 

“I was just standing in it, it’s fine. It’s fine!” he said firmly and he dipped his fingers in. It was warm, uncomfortably so, and it stung a bit, but it also felt familiar. 

“What are you, eh?”

And then the feeling of divinity in the water flickered. 

“Ooooohhhhh. You’ve got flames of creation in you! That’s why you seem familiar! I must have… must have passed some of mine into you when I was in heat.” his hand started to burn earnestly and he removed it, shaking off the remaining water. Crawly grimaced. “I didn’t know I could do that. That’s fantastic, just... just terrific.” 

He ignored the uneasy water situation and went to where he’d left his new clothes at the ready and got dressed, snapping to clean and air the room, vanishing all his accoutrement. How long had he been here then? He thought back, counting the number of times he remembered it being dark. His mind went fuzzy during, more so than last time, which was welcome. It wasn’t really a time for clarity, or an experience he was dying to remember in detail every time, but night time was at least a long and unambiguous experience he could half-remember in the haze. 

“Five? Only five days?” He scoured his memory again, but no, he only remembered five days passing. “I was wanking for almost a week last time and burning for eleven.” 

He eyed the water. Was that the reason this one was so much shorter? It made sense that it would be faster to dispose of his flame by putting it somewhere else, rather than having to burn off the energy by himself. And what was he supposed to do now, just leave it there? Crawly did not trust this demon blessed, sort-of-holy, definitely divine-infused bathwater, but how to dispose of it? Dumping holy-ish stuff all over the floor of his only safe house seemed a bad idea. 

He miracled it outside, then carefully, while standing up slope from it, tipped the tub out onto the ground. 

Immediately, every plant it touched started growing, the seeds in the ground taking root and sprouting, a wave of lush wildlife that ran with the water. It was stunning, literally-- so gorgeous and verdant that Crawly was left with his mouth open and eyes wide. The water pooled a bit near the base of the nearest tree and it started cracking and groaning as it grew, taller and taller, till it was half again as tall as it had been. Flowers began to bloom prolifically from everywhere the water touched, a riot of whites and reds and yellows, the grasses going to seed, and then the outpouring of life seemed to settle. 

Several still moments passed until a gentle breeze blew, ruffling the overgrown greenery, scattering a few dandelions fluff into the wind. 

“Well. That was… That was that, then, wasn’t it? Learning new things every damned day.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary for smut skippers - Crawly successfully goes into a heat, but it is weird and unpleasant and makes him lose his mind and miracles till he burns off the energy. His body tells him how to do this by incessantly masturbating, to the point of injury. [Return to text after the explicit content]
> 
> His second heat goes much more smoothly now that he knows what to expect, if humiliating. [Return to text after the explicit content]
> 
> 🎵 The love shack is a little known place where/ we can wank in safety! Love shack, baby! Love shack! 🎵


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my subscribers: I made large revisions of the first chapter when I was revising the second, and some of that material was moved to this second chapter if things feel familiar. You don't have to go backread though, if you don't want to, for it to make sense. 
> 
> Be ready for Aziraphale to hurt.

A couple hundred years of heats and Crawly had them down to a science. After one it took between nine and fifteen months before his flame would start flickering inside him again, and he had at least four months after that happened to go have another heat. He might have longer, honestly, but that was as long as he’d managed to wait without it strengthening enough that others could tell. During his heats, he’d spent them with cocks and vulvae, and he had the mechanics of both well practiced. His vulva was consistently a gentler experience, with the flame abating at a gradual rate that took slightly longer overall, but he had more trouble keeping his mind intact at any point. Using his penis made the whole process full of highs and lows, and the energy of his flame burned off at an irregular rate, with over-stimulation between orgasms a consistent issue, but he’d grown to enjoy a little pain with his self-pleasure and he could at least feel less like an animal, know what was happening and remember it clearly, so it wasn’t as worrisome. He had the lingering fear that he’d never stop when he had a vulva, that his mind would never come back and he’d just be a stupid animal. He still did it, mind, but not quite as often as the other way. They’d even started to become a bit enjoyable. Like a small vacation to his safe house, filled with excessive self-pleasure, too mindless to fret or fear, with a restful stint in his hot bath at the end. 

He spent years working out what was going on with the happy accident with his bath. It took a few tries before he managed to repeat it on purpose. It didn’t work well if he just jumped in the tub and started his heat immediately, but if towards the middle or end of the whole ordeal he managed to climb in as he masturbated, it seemed to draw the flame out of him somehow. Water was apparently just suited to collecting holy things. What a shock. Doing that usually shaved a day or two off his heat, so he tried to do it as much as possible. Was a lot easier with a cock and the ability to think. And he really liked having options. Since he had to do something with his flame, and  _ when  _ he’d need to burn it off was out of his hands, he liked that  _ how  _ was still completely his choice, and having as much control over the experience as he could made it so much more tolerable. 

Disposing of the blessed water was the hardest part. He’d miracle it into a jug he kept on premise for this purpose, then walk around the edges of Aziraphale’s miracle, dribbling it on all the plants that wouldn’t be noticed by humans. The tree was greedy for it, and he watered it enough that it was a monster of a tree, hundreds of feet tall, though he had to stop when it grew so wide it nearly breached the edge of the protective miracle shrouding the whole lot from notice. 

One time he’d taken the jug with him when he left because the plants there were still too big and lush from the last heat and he was worried they’d break the miracle. He had no idea what else to do with it. Curious to see what effect it had on animals, he gave some to a camel, just a swallow, and the camel had seemed to suffer no ill effects, though it was very energetic afterwards. He left the jug in a random shrine after that, thinking perhaps it’d come in handy at some point, but unwilling to keep it on his person. It had the distinct feeling of divinity and he feared what might happen if he was caught with it. That was how he discovered that other demons wouldn't pay it much mind— Crawly arranged to meet with his bosses at that temple to see how they reacted to it sitting on the altar. Hastur hadn’t even blinked when he’d seen the jug and its vague holy aura, thinking it was a slightly blessed relic, and Ligur had joked about destroying it to foil Heaven, to which Crawly had warned him there was water in it and turned him off the idea. Wouldn’t do to get caught with it often, but he could probably play off having some sometimes, which was a relief. His tree couldn’t drink any more but he really liked not having that extra day of heat. 

And then some priestess at the temple saw it, thought,  _ why not? _ , and drank some. A fact he only found out about months later, when he was back in the area and they were  _ selling _ swigs from it. Apparently, it caused extremely pleasant sensations and guaranteed conception, so they were making a killing as a fertility cult. 

He claimed that one in Hell, too— “Started a heretical religious movement with stolen Heavenly relics.” Later, he introduced himself to the priestesses as their god, told them the water was a blessing from him, told them it could also grow plants, and said he’d renew it from time to time if they pleased him. You know, normal demon stuff. They didn’t need to know that it was his used bathwater. It let him shorten some heats with water when he wanted to, usually the ones where he was worried he’d be missed or caught if he was gone too long, and then discreetly blessing some fields or giving it to the human cult afterwards.

Then it was a new millennium, and he heard rumbling of something big in the works, something straight from God. His flame had been noticeable to him for a month, but orders were orders and he had to look into this first. 

That’s how he ran across Aziraphale again, at Noah’s Ark.

  
  
  


“—But they’re drowning everybody else?” Crawly asked.

Aziraphale pressed his lips hard, but nodded. 

“Not the kids. You can’t kill kids.” 

But the angel just kept nodding, a small affirmative noise squeaking from him. 

And wasn’t that just fantastic. Their benevolent God, murdering children for what? Who knew with her and her arbitrary abandonment decisions. Well, Crawly wasn’t just going to let that be. Aziraphale was wrapped up in watching over Noah’s family and the ark progress, there were no other angels in the vicinity, so Crawly rounded up as many kids who would part with their families as he could and took them from the area. He’d managed to accrue quite the flock when the rains started and he ran out of time. 

He miracled up his own ark, not nearly as big or as fantastic as Noah’s, but big enough to hold all the kids inside and out of the weather. He loaded them up and had the older ones settle the younger and then just nabbed any nearby children he could find from their drowning families, mostly babies.

But then the babies started crying and he realized there were no mothers around to feed them. Human bodies required so much effort to maintain. He’d not planned for that. The shiny, watery eyes all around him— watching him, waiting for him— were also a lot of pressure. 

First, he changed into a she. Crawly had never been a woman-shaped being before, but it felt as natural as being a man-shaped one. Then she miracled her breasts to function, and manifested one of those sling wrap things she’d always seen mothers use, settling in a baby to nurse. If there was another way to feed a babe, she didn’t know of it, so she did what she had to. It wasn’t too hard though, the babies did most of the work and it just felt like a bit of a wiggling thing up against her she had to hold and adjust.

When the baby had it’s fill she nursed the next, until all five were quiet and content. 

And then the first one was hungry again. 

She growled. This was never going to end. Nursing was a lot harder and more work than she’d originally thought.

“Right, whose oldest here?” she called out over the sounds of rain and rushing wind battering their boat. 

A lanky girl raised her hand, one of the ones who was caring for a baby. She was dark of coloring and had unkempt, poofy hair. 

“How old are you?” 

“Thirteen, madam.”

“Right then. You’re in charge.” She raised her voice so they could all hear her clearly. “Anyone has any issues, go to—” she stepped over to the girl and lowered her voice— “What was your name again?”

“Hedu.” 

“Right,” and Crawly raised her voice again— “Go to Hedu here and she’ll bring them to me if she needs to. Anyone who can help with the babies, move to the back of the hold with me. Everyone else to the front. Stay away from the hatch. Got it?” They all nodded at her. She turned to Hedu and steered her to the very back of the boat with one hand on her back. “Right. You pass me the babies when they need food, you tell me any needs you kids have, I’ll keep us all alive until God’s done having her temper tantrum. Got it?” She nodded. “Good.” Crawly sat down, settling the baby she was nursing in its sling. “What do we need first?”

“A place to pee and poop.”

A snap and a row of wooden buckets appeared. “Next.”

“Water.” 

Another snap, and a cistern with a spigot appeared, a pipe leading up to the deck where a rain collector started funneling fresh water to them. Another miracle and a tray of cups appeared near the spigot. 

“Food.”

Snap— a large basket appeared at her feet. Hedu bent down to lift one of the flaps and peer in. She pulled out one of the manna and gave it a skeptical look. “This is food?”

“Manna. Humans can live on that alone for years if they have to, trust me.” 

Hedu looked intrigued and bit into it, made a considering face and said, “Not bad. A bit plain, but it’s pretty tasty.” 

“Glad to hear it. Assign people to tasks as you please. Don’t open the hatch,” Crawly said and left Hedu to it. 

Turned out that for someone whose name meant “decorative,” Hedu was a capable leader, keeping everyone fed, clean and comfortable, bothering Crawly as little as possible. Crawly just had to sit there, swapping one nursing baby for another every half-hour, round the clock, exhausted from the constant miracling up things, like washing cloths, or nappies for the babies, or more oil for the lamps or blankets, or soap, or more manna, or to dispose of a full bucket by miracleing the contents outside. 

For Go- Sa- somebody’s sake, kids were a lot of work and the kids were doing most of it themselves. At least she learned how to nap and nurse at the same time. The naps helped, both with exhaustion and passing the time. It was hard to keep track of time like this, locked in a boat’s hold with no daylight. Sometimes the kids came over and chatted with her. She told them her name was Inanna, a random human name she’d chosen because she’d liked it and wanted to try it on. Sometimes the kids held her hand, or thanked her. It was awful when they thanked her and she’d hiss at them, but this just made them giggle after a while. 

Then one day, the rain let up and the waters went still, so Crawly popped topside for a bit, taking in the vast water they now floated on, nothing else as far as the eye could see. 

“Alright Hedu, I think we’re through the storm. Now we just have to wait for the waters to retreat and the land to dry. Until then you can all go on the deck, just be careful. I don’t want to have to fetch anyone who falls overboard.”

Hedu nodded, and immediately arranged for their buckets to be taken up there, and arranged shifts to go up and get sunlight. It helped cheer up spirits, though Crawly didn’t bother going up much. 

Two more months passed like this, just calmly floating, when Crawly noticed her flame was nearly gone, and wasn’t that interesting? It had never gotten smaller before. Where had it gone? She wondered about that a lot, feeling the barest flicker of it inside her, slowly dwindling.

Crawly miracled a new basketful of manna for the kids and felt the last gentle remnants of her flame’s warmth leave her. And Oh, why hadn’t that ever occurred to her before.  _ Of course _ manifesting things from raw firmament could draw on the power of creation, of course it could. The flame was the power to forge things. Forging used raw firmament. Why wouldn’t it be used when she miracled up things when they already existed? Crawly felt like an idiot for never having realized it before. 

_ That’s why some years took longer before the flame built up. I did more manifesting miracles those years, _ she thought.  _ That’s why I couldn’t manifest things right after a heat… I bet I can miracle up a massive amount of stuff compared to a beta or an alpha, and Hell would never notice or know why.  _

She had a lot of feelings about this discovery, too many to sort out or name. Finally, having the flame was starting to feel like a power worth having. It felt more like being made with the flame inside her was an ability she had rather than a curse inflicted on her. 

  
  
  


Weeks passed. Monotonous, boring weeks. She’d really gotten the hang of being a wet nurse by this point, and a strange warm feeling had settled in her when she looked out at her little ones. Crawly didn’t really understand it, but didn’t think too hard about the feelings that welled up as she resettled Ushar against her breast. He protested, starting to pull off, but she shushed him and stroked his cheek gently and he settled back down.

“Help! Inanna! Help!” Children screamed from the deck, some of them dashing back down the ladder in fear. Crawly’s insides clenched, fear rattling her bones and making her heart race. She pulled her wings out, using them to dash over and up out the hatch, settling on the deck.

“It’s okay kids, I’m here! What’s wrong?” 

“Crawly?” said a familiar voice from behind her. She clutched Ushar tightly with one hand and manifested a knife with the other, then whipped around, ready to fight. 

Aziraphale was perched on the railing, wings out and holding him balanced, making a curious face and blinking at the knife now pointed at him. “What are you doi— Is that a baby?”

“Everyone hide. Someone take Ushar from me, take him to safety,” she barked, never letting her eyes leave the angel. Adaman came to take the babe, but he was latched well and pulled hard as he was ripped from Crawly’s breast and she flinched, but then all his kids were safely in the hold, the hatch pulled closed behind them. “You can’t kill them. I won’t let you. I don’t want to fight you, but I will.” 

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again and said, “I don’t want to fight you either. Why do you think I’ll kill them? I’m an angel, I don’t kill things.”

Crawly laughed, swinging the knife to gesture at the water, “Look around you, Aziraphale. This carnage is God’s holy work. I’ll not let you finish them off.”

The color drained out of the angels face and he looked down, fidgeting with his fingernails. “Ah. right. Yes. All that.” He stepped down from the railing to the deck proper and tucked his wings in behind him. “I can assure you Crawly, I’m not here to kill anyone. I have no intention of doing so.”

“You tell your lot I spared humans from God’s wrath and some other angel will just show up to do the dirty work,” she sneered. 

“I promise I won’t tell anyone that I’ve seen this. I promise Crawly, on my grace.”

Crawly lowered the knife. That was a strong promise. “Why  _ are  _ you here.”

“I’m scouting for land for Noah. You’re not very far from the Ark, and I’m afraid to tell you that you appear to be drifting towards it.”

Crawly hissed through her teeth. That was bad. God was watching or at least, Heaven was watching over the Ark. 

Aziraphale nodded in mutual understanding. Crawly threw the knife over the side of the vessel, and it splashed into the water. “How the bloody hell am I supposed to fix that?” she mumbled. 

At this, Aziraphale perked up, taking a tentative step towards her. “I know what direction the Ark lies, and what direction it’s floating. I’m sure Heaven would prefer I prevent a demon from finding us. So, um… How about I miracled your boat to go the opposite way for you? I’ll tell Heaven I found some large flotsam that might have jeopardized our hull integrity and miracled it to float against the current, if they ask. You are floating, flotsam isn't an inaccurate description… Since I promised not to mention that I saw you.”

Crawly scrutinized him, but he appeared genuine. “Fine.”

Aziraphale snapped, and the deck lurched as it suddenly shifted directions, pushing against the current at a rather quick clip. It threw Aziraphale off balance and he staggered before righting himself with an awkward smile. Crawly relaxed completely at this. It was hard to stay wary of Aziraphale. There was just something about the angel that soothed him, inside.

“May I ask, were you nursing a baby?”

“Yes Aziraphale, I was. What of it?”

“I ah, well. Why? Is it some demon thing?”

Crawly sighed deeply. “No, it’s not some demon thing. I was nursing the baby so it wouldn’t die, Aziraphale. It’s not complicated.”

“Yes but… couldn’t you just have easily miracled someone else the ability to wet nurse?”

“No, no one else could have done it.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re all kids, Aziraphale.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah. Most are under 10. Oldest is 13.”

Aziraphale looked around, taking in the boat and screwing his face up. “And- And- ah... How, uh, many children do you have onboard, exactly?”

“I don’t know, exactly. I never counted. I’ve got more than thirty, maybe?”

“Thirty children. You’ve saved thirty children by yourself? Oh that’s...” There was a distinctly wet quality to the angels eyes now and he was swaying, leaning towards Crawly. “That’s… That’s very good of you.”

“No! It isn’t! It’s evil, just like me. I’m thwarting Heaven, aren’t I? God wanted them dead, well fuck her and her plans.”

“Don’t say such things, Crawly.”

Crawly grumbled, “I’m a demon, what do you expect?” She heard a wail down below, quickly shushed by one of the other kids. It was Girin’s voice, he must be hungry now. “I’ve got things to do, Aziraphale. Boatload of kids to keep alive in direct opposition to God’s will and all.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So it seems you do. Goodbye, Crawly.”

“Goodbye, Aziraphale.” 

They floated on with no more incidents for another month before one of the children spotted land in the distance. Crawly was relieved. She had no idea how much longer she’d be able to keep manifesting all their needs, because her flame was so little she couldn’t feel it, she also couldn’t gauge when she’d run out. She used a miracle to change the direction of the boat and they made landfall that day, grounding the boat with a crunch that knocked everyone over and broke the bottom of the boat, since she’d not realized maybe coming at it at full speed was a bad idea.

The all piled out and the kids frolicked gleefully, some of their joy even infecting Crawly. 

Then they realized they had to walk from here, and they were a lot less excited. Crawly manifested a wagon they could pull for the littlest ones and their water and manna. Fortunately it only took a few more days of walking before they found other humans, and after they’d been properly cowed by Crawly’s terrifying nature, she thought that the kids would be safe there, not sold off or killed as soon as she left. Only the smallest two were too small to wean, but there was a woman who’s own babe had recently died and offered to take them in and nurse them, so Crawly miracled her supply back in and she took over. 

It was a relief, but it was also strangely hard to let go and leave them. She had to though, Hell wouldn't wait much longer for her check-in. 

The kids cried when she left. They cried a lot. It hurt to watch. It hurt after, too. 

Hedu did her best to keep her composure, with only a few tears leaking out, and she promised to watch over them all as the oldest. She told her to pray to Inanna Crawly if she was ever in trouble, and showed her how to draw a magic demon contacting circle in case of emergencies. Only emergencies, Crawly stressed. 

Hell was pleased that she hadn’t discorporated-- apparently she was the only demon in the area who hadn’t, and sent her to hinder Noah’s family’s efforts to rebuild. She didn’t need a heat that year for the first time. 

* * *

Aziraphale had been summoned to Heaven for new orders once Noah had been sorted post-flood, then been left waiting for Gabriel. He didn’t know why he had to wait, but he always seemed to, and Gabriel always seemed so pleased that he had to. He didn’t understand it. 

This time it seemed there was an actual reason for it. A small platoon of angels was gathering, and when Aziraphale wandered over to investigate, found Michael giving them orders. 

“-- must be killed immediately on sight. Anyone. I don’t care if they’re a fresh babe or a grandparent on their deathbed. The flood should have taken care of them but Heaven can’t be too thorough in administering justice upon the earth. Is that clear?”

A chorus of “Yes, Sir!” echoed as the platoon saluted. 

“Good. Head out!” 

The platoon of angels marched off. Michael turned and saw Aziraphale. “Aziraphale. What a surprise.”

“Yes, pardon me, didn’t mean to intrude. I was waiting for Gabriel. Who is to be killed on sight?”

“The nephilim.”

“The who?”

“The nephilim.” Michael stared at him and Aziraphale just blinked as politely as he could manage. “Ah, you’re always on earth, so you don’t know, do you?” 

“I’m afraid not, no. Never heard of the nephilim before. Am I also under those orders to um, … on sight?”

Michael nodded, suddenly taking him seriously and coming to stand in front of him. Aziraphale straightened to stand at attention, recognizing a militant moment. “Yes, all angels on earth are, from now and forevermore, though hopefully you won’t encounter any. Nephilim are human-angel hybrids. They are recognized by their all-white coloring and angel-like scent.” 

Gabriel took this moment to appear from around a corner and joined in their conversation, giving a polite recognition nod to Michael as he did so. 

“So any human with all white coloring is to be killed on sight?” Aziraphale said, a bit shrill and with a hint of panic. 

“If they smell of divinity, yes.” Gabriel spoke with a smile, “We’ll allow the albino humans to live, of course. We just can’t have those abominations on earth. That’s why God sent the flood. Wouldn’t do for us to have another one of those! We’ll run out of humans at this rate.”

Aziraphale faked a smile in response to Gabriel’s jocular tone, though he didn’t see what was funny at all about genocide. “Where do these nephilim come from?”

“There were some angels who had the flames of creation that went rogue. They made them by joining with humans, but we’ve taken care of them,” said Michael. 

Aziraphale winced. “So they’ve fallen. How awful… Won’t Hell just make more? To try and get Heaven to wipe out the humans?” 

Michael and Gabriel blinked and shared a look. Michael spoke, “Hell can make nephilim?”

“Can’t anyone with the flame?”

“Demos don’t retain their divinity when they fall,” said Gabriel. 

“No, of course not… but some of them do retain the spark or the flame. They’ve made ranks for them, in Hell. Gammas or something for the ones who have the flame.”

Gabriel grabbed Aziraphale by the arms, shaking him a bit as she did and said, “Are you sure? You’re positive Hell has the power of Creation?” 

“Well, yes. I mentioned it a while back in one of my reports, about a demon who nearly destroyed the planet?”

“Yeah, a dead demon who couldn’t even create correctly. You didn’t mention that there were others,” growled Gabriel.

“I thought it was implied?” said Aziraphale. “I thought you already knew…” 

Michael looked at him flatly, “We did not. This is vital information.” She pulled Gabriel to the side and lowered her voice, “Someone needs to warn the others, and the Watchers must be obliterated after they Fall. We can’t hand over nephilim breeders to Hell.”

Gabriel shot Aziraphale a look and stepped farther away. Aziraphale politely pretended he couldn’t hear them. “If Hell already has demons with the flame they could have been making demon-human nephilim this whole time. But if we’ve never heard of that happening, and God only warned us about the angels… they must not be. They’re probably using their creators to boost their ranks with full-on demon breeding. Meanwhile we only have a few handful left with the flame who rejected The Watchers nonsense. We might have to use them ourselves, or risk being outnumbered.”

“Well have to warn the others, immediately, before The Watchers Fall,” said Michael. 

The archangels started to hurry off, so Aziraphale called after them “I'll just wait here, then.”

* * *

God had destroyed Crawly’s safehouse. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was, and a little sad about it too. God didn’t care who was hurt, what the byproducts were. There wasn’t even rubble left behind from the little shack. The flood had just wiped her house, with its lovely ever-warm tub, clear off the face of the earth. 

Good thing her tree was so big. It had been taller than the floodwaters, stronger, and was still kicking, which meant the miracles in place to keep the area from being found by anyone who didn't already know it was there were still in place. She thanked the tree and then told it to keep up the good work or else she’d chop it down to make a throne from it’s bones. Then she planted a second tree, though she didn’t water this one with flame-water, to emphasize to the both of them that they were replaceable. 

Crawly just had to rebuild. And now that she knew she could conjure up a huge amount of things using her flame, she went straight to work. This time, she manifested a lovely home of stone and brick, very solid, with vaulting arches and wooden fixtures. Inside she put two rooms, the inner one a big bedroom with a large fireplace and a new always-perfect-temperature wooden bathtub for her to weather her heats, and the entrance room like a private temple to herself, which she filled with comfortable furniture and carvings of snakes on everything. She was the Lord here, at least. 

This was a grandiose house, fit for a demon to call home, so she did. She had a place she belonged, just for her and no one else, safe and secure. 

She’d had about a year and a half since the flood of harassing Noah’s family before she needed to burn off her flame, making it almost three years since her last heat. This time she had a plan, and wanted some flame-blessed water after, so she manifested a penis and set about getting it done within her new home.

It went as well as usual, only taking about four days all told. Hell was giving her some time off, and she had some human kids to check up on. 

* * *

Aziraphale was in a tizzy. He’d gotten his orders from above and they were to go to the Americas of all places for a few blessings, so when he finally got back to Mesopotamia he’d been searching desperately for Crawly. 

He’d accidentally learned a few additional things when he’d checked in with Heaven, and they had sent his thoughts spiraling. Heaven hadn’t realized there were demons with the spark and flame, but they did now and it was all his fault. Because of him, all angels on earth were ordered to be on the lookout for flame-carrying demons and were supposed to abduct them or smite them if they couldn’t kidnap them. Angels, kidnapping and killing, all because of him! Although it was angels that had been responsible for the flood, so maybe it wasn’t all his fault they were resorting to such horrible tactics. Those angels had chosen to breed like humans because they didn’t like burning their divinity off, and now those angels had Fallen. But no, he could take no solace in that because it was his fault that Heaven had annihilated those angels even after their fall. Dozens of angels-turned-demon were murdered because of him. 

Worse, Hell might also be breeding hybrids, which would get God so mad she’d commit genocide. Crawly might even be breeding them, for all he knew. She’d never said if any of those babies had been hers, and no one knew if demonic nephilim would be white or some other coloring. All of those children she’d saved from the floodwaters had smelt a little of demon. For all Aziraphale knew they were all nephilim he’d helped save, and he’d doomed all of humanity on top of everything else. He was such a… a  _ bad  _ angel.

No, he couldn’t think like that. He had to find Crawly and talk to her. He could at least beg her to stop, or hide them, or do  _ something  _ so that God and Heaven wouldn’t smite everyone. If only he could find her again. 

Eventually, he heard rumors of a clan that had been personally blessed by a goddess of fertility, who was turning the desert into farmland, and he knew that wasn’t angelic work, so he headed there. 

He found a thriving little community, with a small brick temple dedicated to their goddess of fertility who was clearly partial to snakes, so it must have been what he was looking for, but Crawly was nowhere to be found. There were a lot of children around, but he didn’t think he could recognize any. I mean, they had scattered when they saw him on their little ark, it’s not like he got a good look at anyone. 

Aziraphale told his usual Heaven-approved cover story: that he was a traveler who had survived the flood by fleeing and was looking for any of his family who might have done the same, recognizable by their white hair and coloring. The people were very understanding, commiserating with him over their own losses, which he always found hard to hear, but felt it was his duty as an angel to comfort them and bear witness to the results of God’s actions, regardless. 

He lingered in the area, trying to be inconspicuous yet get a good sniff of everyone in case they smelled like a demon, when his efforts paid off. There was a big commotion, and when he left to see what was happening, he found many excited children running towards the temple. Aziraphale miracled away his presence and watched from a distance, wary. 

Sure enough, Crawly was the source. She was smiling and hugging everyone who ran up, listening as they excitedly babbled things about their lives. She stopped what she was doing when an older teen with a regal bearing arrived. 

“Hedu! You’re looking marvelous! I hear you run the temple now, so this is for you.” He handed her a large clay jug that smelled blessed. “Might be a couple years before you can have any more so don’t waste it. You ready to live in your own house yet?” 

“I’m working on it. Houses take time to build, Inanna” Hedu replied. She did not hug Crawly as the little ones had, opting to stand a few feet apart, but she looked starstruck, nevertheless. 

“Not for my first priestess they don’t. You tell me what you want and where and I’ll make one for you. Just need a few weeks to build back up to it.” 

Aziraphale was loathe to interrupt, but that meant lingering well into the evening on the fringes of the village as they all celebrated Crawly’s return well into the night with a feast and singing. He wanted to get a good sniff of that regal lady, Hedu. She’d had very dark coloring and who knows, perhaps demonic nephilim, being the opposite of angelic ones, had similarly opposing coloring. She hadn’t smelled demonic once he managed, but she was certainly favored with Crawly’s attention. But eventually they did disband, going back to their own homes, Crawly herself going into the temple with Hedu. When he went to peek, try to get the demon’s attention, he found her asleep on the floor and felt bad about waking her, so instead he sat outside, waiting. 

Around dawn Crawly walked out, stretching and yawning and smacking her lips. Aziraphale cleared his throat and Crawly jumped, whipping around.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you… We need to talk,” said Aziraphale.

“Right. Ok… Not here though,” said Crawly, who started walking off immediately. Aziraphale followed her as she left the village behind and wandered into an orchard. 

“How apropos…” Aziraphale said, wrinkling his nose at the apple trees. 

Crawly stopped and sighed. “What do you want, Aziraphale?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if this weren’t incredibly important,” Aziraphale fretted, unable to look directly at the demon. “Have you, um, that is to say, are these children the ones you rescued?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Right right,” he picked at nonexistent dirt off his clothes. “Are any of them, ah, your children?”

“What do you mean, my children?”

“I mean… Well I mean your… Have you had… uh,  _ made  _ children with a human?”

Crawly gawped at him. “ _ WHAT _ ?” 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that! I need to know if there are demon-human hybrids in the world! It’s very important, everything is at stake!”

“I didn’t even know you could make demon-human hybrids! How do  _ you  _ even know if that’s possible?”

Shame flooded Aziraphale and he turned away. “Because there were angel-human hybrids. Heaven calls them the nephilim. God sent the flood to kill them.”

“You mean it’s  _ Heaven’s  _ fault all those people were drowned?”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, overcome with guilt and shame, and nodded. 

“That’s just like you lot,” Crawly said, venom dripping from each word. “Holy Hypocrites.” 

“The angels responsible have been punished… severely.”

“I’m sure Hell will welcome its new recruits.”

“No, Crawly. They were obliterated.”

There was a moment of silence as Crawly digested that. Aziraphale was the one to reluctantly break it. “You haven’t actually answered my question yet.”

Crawly scoffed and spat out, “No, Aziraphale. I’ve not had any children of any sorts, not that that’s any of your business, and I’m certainly not going around cavorting with humans and breeding hybrids. Glad to know what you truly think of me.” She ended with a sneer. 

“I had to be certain! God would kill everyone if there were more and I can’t…” Tears welled up but he forced them back down. “I can’t let that happen. You must understand.”

Crawly growled. “Well if that’s all, I’m going back to my temple.” She turned and started to walk off. 

“Wait, there’s one more thing. All angels are under orders to capture any demons they find with the flame.”

Crawly flicked her fingers and they transformed into long, black claws, dripping with something that radiated evil, and she turned around to reveal huge fangs, black scales popping out around her hair and neck. “Oh, it’s too be like that is it? Fine.” 

Aziraphale raised his hands in surrender, “No no no, I didn’t mean it like that. I promised, remember, that I wouldn’t tell anyone about you. I can’t break that promise. I just wanted to warn you, and any other demons you might know. I fear what Heaven intends.”

Crawly’s fangs shrank down but were still prominent as she hissed, “Oh, I know exactly what they intend. They’re no different than Hell.”

“Of course we’re different! We’re the good guys!”

“Are you? You know, deep down inside  _ you know _ . Otherwise you wouldn’t warn me of it. Heaven wants to steal demons with the flame for the same reason that Hell stole angels with it.”

“They what?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen them, chained up in the pits outside Lucifer’s own throne room with all the other omegas. Which is exactly what Heaven would do if they captured me.”

“They wouldn’t chain you up!”

“They might make me a more comfortable prison but it would be a prison nevertheless. Pretty trappings don’t make it a less reprehensible action.”

“Heaven is not evil, like Hell.”

Crawly scoffed again. “The first thing Hell does to omegas is make it so they can’t perform miracles, because then they might get away. What do you think Heaven would do with a captured demon omega? Exactly that. Next, Hell chains them to the wall, so they always know where they are and can control their movements. How much do you want to bet Heaven already has a prison ready? Then, Hell does whatever they’d like with them, just because they can, and because you can’t stop them. How long do you think it would take before Heaven would be using captured demons as “practice toys” for the other angels? Just because they could. You know as well as I do.” Crawly folded her arms across herself. “Do you know Hell offered to let me have a go at the omegas once. Said it was a reward. Tried to tempt me by saying it was more fun to play with the helpless angels because they fight back sometimes. You don’t think an angel would have the same idea?”

Aziraphale was frozen, horrified. “No! Of course not!”

“Then you’re naive, angel. This is just how collecting power works. Look,” Crawly bent and picked up a rather hefty stick, a fallen branch from one of the trees, and waved it around. “I can pick this up and move it. It is an ability I possess. This gives me power. It doesn’t seem like much, but when I’m a snake, I don’t have this ability, and then it matters. Still doesn’t seem like a big deal though, right angel? Little kids wave sticks around all the time, excited by their new ability, because when you have a power, you play with it to learn what it can do. And then how you choose to use seemingly-basic ability is where we really showcase that it’s a  _ power _ , because I could choose to build a dam with this power, or I could club someone to death with it. That’s the power having this ability gives me. And that’s just waving a stick! If I get others and make them wave sticks, now I have an army, ready to dam whole rivers or go to war and slaughter people!”

Crawly pierced him with her gaze, those yellow eyes burning into him and she said, “Heaven is targeting people with an ability it wants, so that it can amass their power and use it for their own gains. They want it to go to war. Hell, Heaven, doesn’t matter, they just want more power, and they’ll walk all over anyone to get more of it. You’re all the same, trying to control us, only interested in increasing your own power at our expense, to take our abilities out of our control. You look me in the eye and tell me Heaven doesn’t mean to force any captured demons to be breeding stock, same as Hell. And that once they have control over someone, they won’t experiment and figure out what else they can do with that power.”

Aziraphale just stood there, eyes prickling. There was nothing he could say. 

“That’s right. Because you  _ can’t _ . You're all the same. I’ve kept myself safe from Hell and Heaven for a thousand years and I’ll keep doing that for thousands more. And you’re in luck, you’ll never get to find out how horrible Heaven would be to a captured omega demon, because there are no other omegas to warn. Hell already has them all. Everyone but me, and I know how to not be caught. So keep your precious ideals. Go pretend Heaven isn’t a bunch of murderers.” 

She started to walk away but stopped and glanced back. “And these are all just humans here, Aziraphale, so leave those kids alone. They never deserved what your lot wanted for them, don’t bring them trouble now.” Then she stormed off, leaving Aziraphale to quietly weep under an apple tree. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley Rage! Sad Angel! The next installment in this series is going to get even darker, but then it's healing and comfort for everyone after that. 
> 
> Next time: Inanna is more commonly know as Ishtar! Gilgamesh meets Crowley! Aziraphale finds Crowley's home! Legends are made of what enfolds! Subscribe to the series to find out what happens!


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